“This is my garden.” I said to Hayden, my neighbours two year old son. When I spoke, I put on that ‘voice’ that adults use when speaking to very young children. He took my hand as we slowly walked around.
Julie, his mother, had asked me to watch him for a few hours while she ran a few errands. She was new to the neighbourhood and it was the first time she’d asked for me anything.
“Of course I don’t mind!” I’d said. “At 65 years old, sometimes, you just need a bit of youth around.”
“Thank you so much!” She’d said. “I won’t be long I promise.”
“Don’t you worry, Julie. I used to have my own babysitter business before it-before I retired.”
“Okay, that’s great!” She’d said, and I could tell she wasn’t listening to me; rummaging around in her handbag for her keys or her phone or whatever. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Thanks again!”
“Take your time!”
“What-dat?” Hayden asked.
“That?…That’s my special tree.” I said. His little hand clung on and dragged me in that direction.
With help from the tall trees and arching branches the atmosphere changed from bright and airy, to dense and dark. The surrounding wildlife seemed to be hogging all the oxygen and my awful headache had suddenly returned. At the end of this section, is my special tree. The tree with a door and a smile. I took a hard gulp.
“Well, here we are,” I continued, still using that voice. “My special tree.”
“What-dat?” He asked, pointing at the door.
“That’s a door.”
“…What-dat?” He asked again, clearly not getting the answer he wanted.
“…do you want to go inside?”
He paused to take in the question, then nodded.
“Well, only naughty children go in there…are you a naughty boy?”
Again, he paused. He looked up at me, smiled, and nodded.
Well, aren’t you smarter than you appear?
“You can’t go in there, Hayden. Come-on, let’s head back.” My headache was intensifying, pounding against my skull, I floated in and out of a daze and I felt Hayden suddenly slip from my hand.
“Hayden, no!” But I was too old and slow. By the time I’d turned around, he’d already opened the door and was stepping over the threshold. The smile in the tree grew, and the door slammed shut.
“Noo! No, no, no!” I screamed over and over, furiously banging on the door. “He’s not naughty! He’s not naughty!”
Minutes ticked by. My hands were bloody and swollen from the insistent thumping, but, no sign of Hayden. I heavily slumped against the tree and slid to the ground, scraping a few layers of skin along the way, and at my age, my skin is thin and weak, so the bark sliced me like some evil wooden cheese grater.
“I promised to never come back down here.” I said to the tree. “I’d hoped you’d withered and died by now.” My voice turned soft, pleading with it. “I know you helped me when I needed it the most…when I couldn’t handle them, you helped, but…when I realised just how many you were having, I just had to stop…and I know you helped when the police came knocking too, but, I…please…just, let him go?…”
I must’ve passed out. The sun in the sky has shifted dramatically. Hours have passed by, and there’s still no sign of Hayden.
I managed to pick myself up and head back down the garden when I heard the sound of tyres crunching and slowing to a stop.
Haydens Mother has just returned…
From my view point, I could just about see my special tree…
…Smiling.
Any ideas?